


Conciliating A Tiger

by Saucery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Amorality, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Best Friends, Cross-Generation Relationship, DILFs, Daddy Kink, Drama, Dubious Consent, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Forced Marriage, Friendship, Hidden Depths, In-Laws, Infidelity, Kings & Queens, Lust, M/M, Marriage Equality, Mpreg, Omegaverse, Politics, Pregnancy, Princes & Princesses, Romance, Royalty, Sarcasm, Sarcastic Stiles, Sassy Stiles, Scandal, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall is a Good Friend, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Self-Sacrifice, Size Difference, Size Kink, Snark, Social Commentary, Stiles Stilinski is a Good Friend, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sleeps with his father-in-law. The end.</p><p>No, wait. Let me attempt a proper introduction.</p><p>This is an Omegaverse story in which Scott is an Alpha and a prince, and Stiles is his Omega best friend. When they’re forced into an arranged marriage for political reasons, they vow to keep their marriage chaste, since they’re not interested in each other sexually, and Scott already has a mate, anyway.</p><p>That said, there is a lot of pressure on Stiles to produce an heir. When Stiles refuses to be intimate with Scott, King Rafael, Scott’s father, suggests an unconventional solution.</p><p>Yeah, it’s just as filthy as it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conciliating A Tiger

**Author's Note:**

> There are no Betas in this universe, just Alphas and Omegas. The title is based on this quote by Konrad Adenauer: "An infallible method of conciliating a tiger is to allow oneself to be devoured."

* * *

 

Marrying his best buddy was pretty weird, except for how it totally wasn’t. Stiles had known the marriage was coming ever since he’d turned seventeen and King Rafael had mentioned—in court, in front of the nobility and the press—that a wedding between his heir and General Stilinski’s son would be an excellent way to mend the growing rift between the royal family and the military.

Stiles reflected bitterly that Rafael must’ve purposely made the statement public, in order to strong-arm Stiles’s dad into agreeing with the wedding, or risk outright conflict. It was funny how Stiles and Scott had always been inseparable, while Rafael McCall and John Stilinski had always been at odds. Neither of them wanted civil war, but the anti-monarchists had adopted the general as their figurehead, which complicated matters.

Now, at eighteen, Stiles and Scott were finally of age, and today, they were to be wed, putting the anti-monarchists off once and for all. The newspapers gushed that Scott and Stiles were destined for marriage. Indeed, their bond had long been interpreted as more than friendship by the gossip-mongering media dissecting the personal lives of the royal family. Much of the speculation was based on the assumption an Alpha and an Omega could never be friends, and that they would naturally develop a mutual attraction. Sex would be inevitable, because an Alpha like Scott couldn’t _not_ desire an Omega he felt affection for, and vice versa.

Which was all well and good, but for the fact that: a) the whole can’t-be-friends angle was bullshit, and b) Scott had a mate, anyway.

“Listen up, man,” Scott said, as the palace seamstress fussed over his tuxedo. “I’ll have to kiss you after the ceremony, but I’ll keep it as short as I can.”

Stiles snorted. “Chill. Kira won’t kill us for what we can’t help doing.”

“That’s not what I…” Scott slumped. “I’m worried about you. About you having to stand there and—and _take_ it.”

“You’re not Godzilla, Scott. Kissing you won’t freak me out that much.”

“I still wish we didn’t have to,” Scott mumbled, looking away from Stiles. “You deserve getting married to someone you’re in love with, someone you can… be close with.”

“Someone I can bone, you mean.” Stiles wriggled into his own tux, shooing away the overly attentive seamstress. “It’s fine.” He grinned. “I’ll just have a torrid affair with a sexy stablehand.”

“And I’ll have to settle for having Kira as nothing but my bodyguard. It’s not like the citizens would’ve accepted me marrying another Alpha; they’d have called me a deviant. And same-orientation marriage is illegal, anyhow.” Scott sighed. “It still sucks that you’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

“Hey, hey.” Stiles clasped Scott by the shoulders. “Look at me.” Scott looked at him, hurt and sad and guilty, and Stiles… Stiles couldn’t let Scott feel like that. “I’m not stuck with you, all right? That’s not how I see it. What we’re doing is _good_. It’s necessary. I can’t say I like the way your dad went about it, but our wedding is the only thing stopping the kingdom from splitting in half.”

“But—”

“Sure, we won’t ever get to marry the people we love, but… you have it worse, because you _have_ a person you love. This isn’t nearly as tragic for me as it is for you. So don’t go kicking yourself when you’re already down. I don’t need you guilt-tripping yourself into an emotional collapse. And who knows? Maybe we can make something great outta this. After all, we agree on major policy decisions; when we rule together, we’ll do amazing stuff. Legalize same-orientation marriage, for one.”

Scott smiled, a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re lucky we’re best friends. How many arranged marriages end happily? Sometimes, they end in misery. But that won’t happen with us.”

“You might wind up hating me.”

“No, I won’t,” said Stiles, firmly. “You and me, we’re sacrificing enough as it is. We won’t sacrifice our friendship, too. You’re losing the chance to be with Kira officially, and I’m losing the chance to be with… whoever I would’ve been with. Officially. So it’s fair, isn’t it? Even-steven.”

Scott laughed. “Even-steven? What are you, eighty years old?”

“I’m awesome, is what I am.” Stiles drew himself up as the Master of Ceremonies poked his head into the dressing room and beckoned at them. “C’mon, dude. Let’s go get hitched.”

“Friends for life,” Scott said, and held his fist up.

Stiles fist-bumped him. “Friends for life.”

 

* * *

 

The ceremony took place in the grand chapel attached to the palace. The chapel was crowded with courtiers in resplendent dresses and doublets, as well as guards in their red-and-gold uniforms stationed strategically throughout the chapel, herding the press with their flashing cameras strictly into their allotted pews.

It was mind-numbingly boring, as Scott and Stiles endured the monotonous droning of this bishop and that priest, followed directions and performed the ceremony exactly how they’d rehearsed it for the past few weeks. The kiss came and went, and Stiles wondered if the onlookers noticed how awkward and unfamiliar it was, or whether they pegged it as young lovers being shy in front of millions of spectators, nationwide.

Stiles also wondered what Kira was feeling, staying beside Scott throughout the ceremony, as the prince’s guard. Stiles didn’t dare to look at her, feeling a dull sort of grief twist through him, that Kira wasn’t allowed to have this, that Scott wasn’t allowed to have this, simply because they were both Alphas. It made no fucking sense. It was so unfair, that Scott had to marry Stiles, that Scott couldn’t be open about his relationship with Kira, that he was condemned to a lifetime of secrecy.

But so was Stiles, wasn’t he? He hoped that he never fell in love. He wouldn’t mind a bit of nookie on the side, occasionally, but he didn’t want to love someone he couldn’t be _with_ , in all senses of the word. He didn’t want to go through what Scott was going through. And maybe that made him a coward—maybe that made him a hypocrite—but it was what it was.

Stiles’s dad was watching from the box above the podium, as was King Rafael. They both had smiles plastered on their faces, because this wedding _was_ basically about them making their alliance official, but even from down here, Stiles could see how strained his dad’s smile was. Rafael seemed perfectly at ease, though, as if everything was going according to plan.

Bastard. He was only the king because he could out-Alpha everyone else, because nobody who had challenged him to direct combat had survived. And while some brainless Omegas appeared to think that was the pinnacle of hotness, and spent ages swooning over him on television shows and fansites, Stiles just reckoned it proved what a jerk Rafael was. He was so full of himself, so fucking _commanding_ , like he didn’t consider the rest of humanity worthy of kissing his shoes.

Rafael felt that might was right, and it showed. God, it showed. And it pissed Stiles off.

Thinking uncharitable thoughts about his father-in-law didn’t suit this festive occasion, so Stiles focused on holding Scott’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly. The audience cooed, as if Stiles and Scott were the perfect pair of lovebirds, and not just a pair of friends trying to be there for each other during the most terrifying, depressing event of their lives.

Stiles managed not to sneer at the bishop nattering on about true love.

Then, the ceremony was over, and Scott was carried out of the chapel on the shoulders of a bunch of Alpha courtiers and soldiers, who cheered as they lifted him and made off-color jokes about wedding nights and stamina. Kira trailed behind them, as was her duty, keeping an eagle eye on the revelers. She didn’t look heartbroken, but she had to be. She _had_ to be, because Stiles was heartbroken simply knowing that in marrying Scott, he’d stolen from Kira what was rightfully hers. It didn’t matter that the world thought same-orientation relationships were depraved. It didn’t matter, at all. What mattered was that Kira had to witness her mate swear eternal fidelity to somebody that wasn’t her.

Stiles, in turn, was escorted to Scott’s chambers by a group of tittering Omegas, among whom were Isaac and Erica, the only ones who weren’t giggling, the only ones who wore expressions of sympathy. They weren’t quite Stiles’s friends, but they’d shared the same court tutors as children, and they knew that Scott and Stiles weren’t childhood sweethearts, the way the rest of the country assumed they were.

When the revelry died down, Kira bowed and closed the door behind her, taking up her customary position outside. Stiles was left alone with Scott in his bedroom, and they stood there awkwardly.

“Er,” Stiles said, “should I call Kira in and go to my room?”

“Nah,” said Scott, although he was clearly torn, his eyes glued to the door Kira was waiting beyond. “Not tonight. Some of the nobles could still be hanging around outside; they’re not normally let into the royal wing, and… well, we can’t risk getting caught not consummating our marriage.”

“Oh, god. I’m going to be sick.”

Scott tossed a pillow at him from the silk-upholstered couch. “Are you implying I’m not attractive?”

Stiles dodged the pillow. “Of course not, Your Highness.” He batted his lashes at Scott. “You’re an Alpha prince! You’re irresistible to humble Omegas like me!”

Scott snickered. “Cut the bullshit. Whaddaya say to gaming our sorrows away?”

“Are you suggesting we play _video games_? On our wedding night?”

“You got another idea?”

Stiles shrugged. “Better than us boning, I guess.”

Scott shuddered dramatically. “Don’t even kid about that. You’re like my brother.”

“Like? I _am_ your brother." Stiles shoved Scott playfully on the way to the obscenely oversized entertainment system, with the equally obscene collection of games stacked against it. “Grand Theft Auto?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“At least you’re not tapping it.”

“Argh. No. I’ll have to bleach my brain to get rid of that image.”

“If I make you scream loudly in despair after defeating you ten times in a row, those idiots eavesdropping on us will think we’re screwing like rabbits.”

“Stiles. Shut the fuck up and give me the console.”

“Make me.”

Scott tackled him to the floor.

 

* * *

 

Kira flipped her card over; it was the Queen of Hearts. “Damn, would you look at that. I win. Again.”

“Do your Alpha pheromones alter reality on a quantum level?” Stiles grumbled. “The same goes for Scott. How come y’all _always_ win?”

“That’s because we’re actually concentrating,” Scott said, stretching his legs out before him on the thick carpet. “Where’s your head at?”

“My head’s preoccupied with my doom, that’s what. This is the day your father officially crowns me as your consort, after having some sorta private meeting with me. I’d rather not meet him, to be honest. I’m happy pretending he doesn’t exist. No offense, Scott.”

“None taken. I’m happy pretending he doesn’t exist, too.”

“Well, he does,” Kira pointed out, grimly. “The sooner you guys admit that he’s pulling all the strings, the sooner you’ll be at peace with being his puppets.”

“We might be the first puppets in history to turn the tables on our puppeteer.”

“Good luck doing that,” Kira said, “when he’s the bloody _king_.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Stiles grumbled.

“My mate married someone else, yesterday,” Kira said, picking up all the cards and putting the deck into its gilded case. “And nobody involved wanted it to happen. I’d say we all have the right to be dejected.”

“Except Rafael,” said Stiles. “Did you see him at breakfast this morning? Like the cat that got the cream. Disgusting.”

“That _was_ creepy,” Kira admitted.

“It’s not normal, how much he gets off on a political victory,” Stiles said.

“Ew, no.” Scott grimaced. “I don’t need to picture my father getting off, got it?”

“Got it, Mr. Alpha McAlpherson.”

“On the plus side,” Kira said, brightly, “you do bicker like a married couple. Scott and I don’t have to be afraid of being outed, since you’re so convincing.”

“Joy,” Stiles drawled. “I’m so glad my fake marriage looks real enough.” He checked the digital clock beside Scott’s bed. “The king’s messenger will be here for me any moment now. You might wanna go back to being Scott’s guard.”

“I am his guard.”

“ _Just_ his guard. Jesus Christ, Kira.”

Kira smirked, and leaned across Stiles to kiss Scott. Soundly. And noisily. And lengthily.

Minutes passed.

Stiles fidgeted, because having turned-on Alphas on either side of him was messing with his nether regions, even though he wasn’t remotely attracted to them. For the millionth time, he cursed his Omega biology. “Maybe you could… do this when I’m gone? Just a suggestion. Or the palace will be scandalized that the prince is apparently having polyamorous threesomes immediately after his wedding. And it’s way too early in our marriage for threesomes.”

“It’s never too early for threesomes,” Kira said, pulling away from Scott, whose eyes were glazed.

“Yeah, like you could ever tolerate sharing Scott,” Stiles said, and Kira chuckled. “Don’t be late to my coronation because you’re banging your girlfriend,” he warned Scott, who blinked at Stiles dazedly.

“She’s the one who bangs me,” Scott said, and Stiles winced.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Too much information.”

“I can imagine those sanctimonious right-wingers up in arms about it.” Kira rose to her feet, picking up her discarded laser-spear and making for the door. “An Alpha, penetrating another Alpha? Sacrilege!”

“They’re morons,” Stiles said, flatly. “If a couple as ridiculously in love as you two doesn’t get to bang, who does?”

Kira shot him a fond glance. “That’s why we love you, Stiles,” she said, and shut the door quietly behind her.

Stiles groaned. “People _are_ going to think we’re having threesomes.”

 

* * *

 

The simpering Omega messenger deposited Stiles in Rafael’s study, which was full of heavily-laden bookshelves, sepia-toned maps on walls, and a marble desk so enormous that it resembled a rock formation more than a piece of furniture.

Rafael was standing at the giant window overlooking the practice grounds, where soldiers were sparring under the watchful eye of Captain Braeden.

“She’s terrifying, isn’t she?” Rafael murmured, approvingly, still facing the window.

“Not as terrifying as you,” Stiles said, and he meant it as an insult, but Rafael, being Rafael, took it as a compliment.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Will it get me out of this marriage?” Stiles blurted, and Rafael turned to him, eyebrows raised.

“Why would you aspire to get out of a marriage that will, one day, make you the most powerful Omega in the land?”

“Because power isn’t as important to me as how Scott feels. How I feel.”

“Feelings are the province of the young,” Rafael said, indulgently. “These romantic notions will fade as you mature.”

“Since when is free will a romantic notion?”

Rafael smiled. Carnivorously. “Since I became king.”

“You must be a robot as well as a king, then, if feelings are no longer your _province_.”

“Outspoken little thing, aren’t you? That’s unusual, in an Omega. I daresay it makes you a perfect candidate for co-rulership.”

“It makes me a perfect candidate for running away to the circus,” Stiles muttered, mostly to himself. “So, er, why do I have to see you before the coronation?” Belatedly, he added: “Your Majesty?”

“Don’t attempt formality, boy, when you are plainly incapable of it. At any rate, you may address me as Rafael. You’re family, now. My son-in-law.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles said, acting like Rafael’s false affection wasn’t giving him the heebie-jeebies. “And I’m here because…?”

“I wanted to reaffirm your commitment to the wedding, and to the stability of this kingdom. I am aware that this is not an… ideal situation, for you, but you must understand how vital this wedding is to bridge the gap between the military and the McCall clan.”

“Isn’t that a gap _you_ put there, when you decided to increase the tax on farmers?”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. He took a step toward Stiles, and there was a deliberately menacing quality to his gait, something that made Stiles feel small and helpless, something that made Stiles conscious of how fucking _huge_ Rafael was, tall and broad-shouldered, and, hell, Scott had to get his Adonis figure from somewhere, but this was—this was—

 _Abort, abort, abort_ , he told his stupid Omega body, with its suddenly pounding heart and quickening breath. _Get with the program. Sociopathic megalomaniac at three o’clock. Heck, he’s practically the evil father-in-law from some soap opera targeted at home-making Omegas_.

“That tax assisted farmers the next year, because the grains we received from them were stored and redistributed to them during the recent drought. Without those stores, the poor would have starved. Some self-serving politicians twisted the tax into anti-monarchy rhetoric, which didn’t surprise me, although the military’s backing of them did. I expected more from your father.”

The implied affront to Stiles’s dad infuriated the inappropriateness right out of Stiles’s system. “My dad _never_ betrayed you. So don’t talk like he did. If he wasn’t reining in his soldiers, all along, this palace would’ve been razed to the ground ages ago.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a threat,” Rafael said, softly. He was close, too close, crowding Stiles against the desk, but Stiles refused to back down.

“It’s a statement of fact. You wouldn’t be marrying me to your son if you didn’t benefit from it. Why make an investment with no return?”

“Clever _and_ outspoken.” There was an appreciative gleam in Rafael’s eyes.

It unnerved Stiles. “You said it yourself,” he said. “This is all about stability, isn’t it? But it’s the stability of your rule you’re interested in, not the stability of the kingdom.”

“They are one and the same.”

“Are they?” Stiles challenged, because he had zero survival skills.

Rafael appraised Stiles. “I am thankful that circumstances led to you joining the McCalls, undesirable as those circumstances may have been, at first. I couldn’t have found a worthier spouse for my son.”

 _Yes, you could have. Her name is Kira. And she cares about Scott more than you ever did._ “I would’ve been loyal to your son, anyway, with or without the marriage. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” Rafael said, peaceably. “I don’t pay much attention to what my heir does, out of the classroom—”

“Or at all,” Stiles interjected, accusingly.

“But I’m informed that you are friends. Nevertheless, loyalties can change.”

“Not mine.”

Rafael studied him. “Perhaps not. However, you must understand how crucial this marriage is, to hold the kingdom together.”

“Maybe half the kingdom wouldn’t have tried to rebel against you if you were less of an asshole,” Stiles snapped, before realizing that he’d just cussed out the _king_. Well, he’d kind of been taunting him for a while, but this was blatant. Even for Stiles.

“How can you speak to me so freely?” Rafael cupped Stiles’s chin, tilting it up. “My own son does not.”

“Did I mention you were an asshole? That’s why your own son isn’t comfortable with you.”

“You are. Why is that?”

Stiles spluttered. “I’m—I’m not _comfortable_ with you, okay?” His pulse raced, and his palms were clammy; he couldn’t believe he was saying all this and getting away with it. He was fortunate that Rafael was entertained by his impudence, and that punishing a family member was against even Rafael’s deficient moral code. Stiles would no doubt have been flayed alive for what he’d been saying, had he been an ordinary civilian. “I just don’t take your bullshit.”

“Neither did Melissa.” An unidentifiable emotion clouded Rafael’s countenance, but then it cleared. Rafael quirked his lips. “You may have made a more suitable match for me than for my son.”

Stiles gaped at him incredulously. Was Rafael joking? He had to be joking, didn’t he?

Rafael released him. “As it is, you are to be my son’s mate.”

 _No, I’m not_ , Stiles didn’t say. _Your son has somebody else he can’t tell you about, is all_. “Right,” he said, because he had to. “Your son’s mate.”

“And yet, you haven’t mated, have you?”

Stiles startled. “Wha—? How do you…?”

“Have you forgotten that I’m the strongest Alpha in the realm? My senses are sharper than most, and you do not smell of a recent mating.”

“That’s… It’s just…” Stiles fumbled for an answer. “It’s isn’t easy to, um, start seeing a friend as, as more than a friend.”

“I hope you surmount that difficulty quickly, because the public will anticipate offspring within the year.”

Stiles’s face drained. “Off—offspring?”

“Don’t worry; you and Scott will definitely regard each other as mates after having a child, even if you cannot currently fathom doing so.”

“I… I look forward to it,” Stiles said, weakly. What the hell? How could he forget? It hadn’t occurred to him that he’d have to—to get impregnated. Eventually. The prospect was sickening, because being impregnated by someone who _wasn’t_ his mate was unnatural, and being impregnated by Scott was out of the question. It would be downright wrong. Incestuous, almost.

Rafael reached for the tiny golden bell on his desk, and rang it. “I’ll see you at the coronation, then. I’m gratified by how productive our discussion has been. You will do well, Stiles. I am confident of it.”

“I wish I was confident of it,” Stiles said, but then the messenger was back, and Stiles let himself be led out of Rafael’s office, steeling himself for another long day of ceremonies in formalwear.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An excerpt from the next chapter:
> 
> “How do you think it’ll look, if the king’s Omega is caught with someone else? Or even rumored to be with someone else? It could throw the entire line of succession into doubt. It could lead to civil war.”
> 
> “So I have to stay chaste? For the rest of my life?”
> 
> “No,” Rafael said. “You must bear an heir. An heir to the McCall line.”
> 
> Stiles laughed bitterly. “Scott won’t sleep with me, but I’m somehow supposed to produce a McCall heir? What, are you proposing to fuck me yourself?”
> 
> Rafael went quiet.
> 
> Stiles stared. “No,” he whispered in horror. “You can’t be serious.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Want updates and sneak previews? Follow me on [Tumblr](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
